Chapter 6

I went to the Mended Drum to sit and relax, whilst I tried to figure out what to do next. Firstly, I needed to decide what I actually wanted to do next. I’d told the King that I just wanted my own forge and that I’d be happy making blades. Whilst that was true, I also wanted a wife. I’m sure that sex would be amazing, but what I really desired was a soul mate, someone who I could love and trust; a woman that I could talk to; no; make that talk with. Where I’d find such a woman was a totally different question. I also knew that until Baron D’Ankh’s brother had seen the King and had accepted that I had little choice in what happened, then I didn’t want to make any long term plans.

When I went down for my evening meal, the place was relatively quiet. A couple of merchants, by their attire, successful ones too, were drinking and talking. The landlord’s daughter was fawning over them, no doubt husband hunting. She was an attractive young woman, and it seems like all really pretty women, whatever their class, had never bothered to develop a personality. This one, Anna, I think her name was, had taken one look at me when I’d arrived and dismissed me with disdain. A journeyman of any trade was far below her aspirations. That was fine by me, for, as with Cassandra, I wouldn’t want to spend too much time with her. Still, she was pretty enough to look at whilst I ate. It was quite clear that neither merchant took any notice of her efforts.

I had a couple more small beers before I headed back up to my room and a, hopefully, good night’s sleep. The noise from downstairs delayed the start but that was all.

The following morning I’d just finished breakfast, served with the usual disdain from the landlord’s daughter, when a messenger from the King arrived ‘requesting’ my presence.

After a minimal wait, I was shown in to see the King. Baron Du Beque was present and two strangers had their backs to me. There was also the King’s guard at hand.

“Ah! Smith,” commenced the King. “I have here two men who dispute your version of events.”

Both men turned and looked in my direction. It was easy to tell which one was Philip D’Ankh from the look of utter hatred contorting his face. The second man was more circumspect. I wasn’t positive, but thought that he may have been one of the men that ran from the affray. I said nothing and waited for the Monarch to continue.

“They say that you attacked Baron D’Ankh from behind and without warning whilst he was having a friendly conversation with Richard Du Beque.”

“How do they know that?” I enquired.

“I and my colleagues were witness to your cowardly attack.” The second man said, with a rather lack of commitment.

“And where was this conversation taking place?”

“In Richard’s hall.” Shouted Philip, “as you well know.”

“So if your brother was having a quiet word with Richard, why did he feel the need to have six men in the room with him?”

“That’s irrelevant,” he blustered. “You attacked him from behind. How else could a ... mere boy kill my brother?”

“ENOUGH!” Order the King. “Philip, I don’t know if your man has told you the truth, but Smith has demonstrated how he did it, as well as why. My verdict is that he acted in defence of himself and of Du Beque’s children. I will now decide what to do with the Baronetcy.”

“Surely that is mine.” Stated a still very angry Philip.

“There is no surely about it. Your brother dishonoured the title and you have shown little to warrant replacing him. Now leave, and do not dare take this any further. Smith, wait here a moment.”

I waited until I was told that I could leave, with the warning to watch my back and to report back if Philip made any aggressive move. I guessed that my waiting was to assure Philip had time to leave the area. Philip aside, I gathered that the excitement was over, so spent the day wandering around. I discovered that there were already three swordsmiths in the city, none of them particularly affluent, all having to take on general blacksmithing to subsidise their main work. The city was not where I would be setting up.

I returned to the Mended Drum for tea and a surprise. The landlord’s daughter, whose name I now discovered to actually be Grace, was suddenly very attentive. This on its own would have been suspicious enough without the nearby presence of Philip. Richard’s warning sprang swiftly to mind. Grace seemed most put out when a mere tradesman rebuked her advances. When I was served, the wry smile she offered, immediately put me on my guard. I was not even the least bit surprised when the food would not enter my mouth. Thanking the Spirit, I grabbed her arm.

“What have you put in it?” I demanded.

“Nothing!” She screamed, “now let me go.”

“What’s going on Grace?” Her father asked as he approached from his position behind the bar.

“This man just grabbed me Dad.”

“She has poisoned my meal.” I stated.

“What rubbish. Why on earth would she do that?”

“I’m guessing because she was paid to. If it’s not poisoned then she won’t mind eating some.”

The look of horror on her face convinced me that I was right. Sadly for her, it also convinced her father.

“Well lass, go on then, try some.” He ordered.

“I’m not really hungry Dad,” she tried, but when that didn’t work she admitted that I was right.

“Why?” her father wanted to know.

“He is a murderer!”

“How much am I worth?” I asked, ignoring her accusation.

“Ten gold,” she eventually admitted. “He gave me one and said I’d get the rest when he was dead.”

I decided that attempted poisoning constituted an aggressive move, so took Grace to see the King. We got as far as his chamberlain who took the details, explaining that the King was in conference with his advisors. Just what they were conferring about, I wasn’t informed. I was told to wait, whilst Grace was removed elsewhere. Even though it was quite late, it was still over an hour before I was shown in. A few minutes later Philip arrived. He showed no surprise at my attendance, just hatred. I guessed he thought that I’d not yet returned to the inn.

We were both standing before our monarch, just a few feet apart, when Grace was brought into the room. Philip knew instantly that the game was up and that he was in deep trouble with King Lancer. He grabbed his sword and swung it at me. His reactions were far too quick for me or the King’s guards. I think his intention was to kill me, then hope he could fight his way out. His first shock was when his sword bounced off my shield. His second, and last, was when he underestimated the speed of the guards’ response. Before I could even draw Atom, the nearest guard had run Philip through.

“I apologise, your Majesty,” the guard stated, “if I had known that he would react that stupidly, I would have kept them further apart.”

“No harm done, Simon.” The King replied, “but I would like to know why you’re still standing, seemingly unharmed.” The latter part, clearly aimed at me.

There then followed a long debate on my shield, how it worked and most importantly, why I hadn’t thought to mention it earlier. Eventually they accepted that I hadn’t been hiding anything, just that it had never cropped up. The King did think that I was a ‘lucky bastard’ having a shield AND Atom.

I left and returned to the Mended Drum, where the landlord wanted to know what had happened to his daughter. I told him that she was fine the last time I saw her but had no idea what would happen next, after all, she did try to kill me. I went up to my room as I felt confident in my shield, otherwise I would have looked elsewhere for a bed.

The following morning, I packed my things and headed to see Baron Du Beque. I let him know that I was planning to return to see Richard about his request for swords. I did wonder out loud, why they didn’t use Master Cohn as he was relatively close.

The Baron laughed, “you clearly don’t know that all his swords end up here, with the King.”

“No, I didn’t, but that just reinforces my decision to set up elsewhere.”

“Do you think you could delay your return for a few days. I want to write and tell Richard what is happening here and to the D’Ankh lands, seeing as you don’t want them.” He smiled as he finished, then added laughing, “or my daughter.”

“Yes, a few days won’t change anything.” I relied, ignoring his little dig.

“You might as well join me for the day, see how the other half live.” He finished.

With nothing else planned I agreed, promising to catch up as soon as I’d arranged another inn for me to stay in. We did that on the way see the King.

His morning was about as boring as I could imagine. Talking to those who wanted to see the King but weren’t important enough to warrant any of his time. He then had to try and settle what that person wanted, usually it was an argument over land, money or taxes. He then had a scribe write everything down to his satisfaction. Whatever was written was the legal end to the problem. I was amused at some of the petty things people worried over.

After lunch, he swapped places with one of the other barons to attend the King. The King was doing the same thing, only with the more important members of his realm. He always had at least one baron with him for advice but also, to see that everything was done as fairly as possible. These people may have been more important but their issues boiled down to the same thing; money.

Towards the end of the session, a small, bald man was shown in. he may have been short in stature but his demeanour was one I was becoming familiar with; self-importance.

“Mr. Small wishes to query his fine, your Majesty.” Stated the King’s Chamberlain.

I almost laughed at his name. Small of build and of name.

“I am the most powerful wizard in the kingdom, yet you expect me to treat ordinary people as if they are my peers.” He stated loudly. I noticed the lack of respect when he addressed the King.

“You were fined for almost killing a market stall holder, if I recall.”

“A man of no consequence. I was in a hurry and he insisted on serving others before me.”

“Others who were there before you.”

“Irrelevant. My time is far more important than theirs.”

The King beckoned Baron Du Beque over and they had a brief, whispered conversation.

“You are correct that the fine is wrong, it was far too lenient. In fact, I’m considering letting you spend some time in one of my cells to see if that knocks some arrogance out of you.”

“You will do no such thing if you wish to live.” He shouted angrily.

Instantly everyone was on their toes, including me. I quickly cast a shield around the King and Baron Du Beque before studying the man’s face, which was doing a good impression of a ripe plum.

As he noticed the change of stance in the guards, he laughed. “Tell them not to bother, my shield will protect me.” Without warning he flicked his wrist towards the King and knives appeared heading straight for his heart. As they were energy daggers rather than steel, my shield just absorbed them. The wizard, froze, shocked that his attack had been thwarted but having no idea how, or by whom.

I decided to repeat the trick I’d used on the Black Wizard, and cast a shield around his shield. As he wasn’t producing fire, the air would last long enough for me to address the King. I also made it immoveable, in case he tried to run. I must admit to being amused by the faces he pulled as he tried to figure out what to do.

“Your work Smith?” The King said to me in a voice far more controlled that mine would have been had the roles been reversed.

“Yes Sire. I put a shield around you, then one around him. The latter lets nothing through, including air. If I don’t remove it, he will suffocate.”

“Thank you. I assumed that I was safe with my guards close by. I guess I ignored a magical attack. How long before he dies?”

“A few minutes, Sire.”

“He appears to be speaking, yet I hear nothing.”

“Nothing can penetrate my shield, including sound. At least nothing that I’ve come across.”

“Can he hear me?”

“Yes Sire, the shields are one way.”

“Good. Mr. Small, I sentence you to death by suffocation for attempted Regicide.”

Everyone in the room looked at the helpless man and watched as he used up the last of his air. When I was certain that he was dead, I removed the shield and allowed the guards to remove the body.

“Well, it looks like I owe you my life,” the King told me. “Are you sure you don’t want to be the next Baron D’Ankh?”

“Positive Sire, I know nothing about being a Baron. I just want to make blades. Talking of which, I have recently made a sword for Master Cohn, that carried some of my shielding. When I get set up, I will happily make one for your Majesty.”

Before he could reply, Baron Du Beque approached him and they had another whispered talk.

“Alright then, I will keep the title open for a year and a day, if you decide to change your mind. However I still feel the need to reward you. Gold you shall have, plus the rank of Earl.”

I’d heard of an Earl, but knew of none, nor had I heard the title mentioned here at court.

“Just what is an Earl?” I asked.

“An Earl is a long abandoned honorific, like Duke or Marquis. With this mess with Baron D’Ankh, I’ve been thinking about bringing some back to introduce a sort of hierarchy in the nobility. As to what the title means today, well, it is whatever I decide it is. Simple as that.”

“Do you have any land that you wish to be Earl of?” Asked the Baron.

My initial thought was no, then the Dark Wood sprang to mind.

“Yes, the Dark Wood.”

“Now that I wasn’t expecting,” said a rather startled Monarch. “You won’t be collected much tax there. I assume you have a reason?”

“Yes Sire. The Dark Wood scares many but some still try to desecrate its edges. I wish to protect it and also protect the overly adventurous youth who risk their lives entering.”

“How do you propose to do that? Cast a shield around the whole Forest?”

“No Sire, I don’t think I have that much power. I am familiar with the Spirit of the Forest and together we will work things out. Plus, an edict from the Crown would certainly help.”

“Well, Earl Darkwood, you are a strange man and a very interesting one. So be it.” He looked at his Chamberlain. “See that it’s done. Now, tell me about this sword you plan to make. That intrigues me.”

I did so, using the one I made for Master Cohn as the basis. When asked exactly what protection it offered, I told him that I wasn’t sure as it hadn’t been tested in actual combat. I did know that an ordinary steel sword could not harm the wielder, but that was as far as it went. We all agreed that that was a lot better than nothing.

The following day I was officially inaugurated, if that’s the right word, as Earl Darkwood. The Dark Wood itself was now officially mine, well as far as the law went. I didn’t really consider it so and I was sure that the Spirit wouldn’t either. Still, I vowed to visit and explain things soon.

King Lancer wanted me to stay around for a while, so everyone knew of my new title and he could explain its meaning to my fellow nobles. Oh, did that feel strange saying ‘fellow nobles’. Of course, even with the King’s gift of gold, I was still easily the poorest. The few that I talked to were astounded that I didn’t want the D’Ankh lands and completely flummoxed at my choice of title. I think that my lack of ambition (and greed) meant that none felt threatened by me.

The second day of my rise to the nobility, I rode out to the Forest, where I had a thoughtful discussion with the Spirit. He was amused that humans thought that they could own land but when I explained my reasons he was happy with anything that kept us out of his domain. Destruction seemed the only reason we ever entered. I asked him if there was any way he could prevent stupid people entering in the first place, rather than taking care of them after the event. He told me that he would do what he could, but hadn’t considered that approach. He then reiterated that I was still welcome to visit the Forest.

Nothing else of interest happened before I left the capital. That is, except that I was sounded out as husband material for daughters or sisters. I did notice that every time, the young girl in question had at least one sister who could be used for real political alliances. I promised to consider them all, once I’d settled down in my own home. Only one had piqued my imagination. Baron D’Ering had told me of his daughter Tiffany, who seemed more at home out in the wild than sitting doing feminine things. He also thought that she had the gift of healing.